I chuckle and kiss her lips again. “You’re right. But let’s get one thing straight. If I wanted to fuck you right here in this parking lot, I damn sure fucking would.” I pause, looking at her fiercely, daring her to disagree, but she stays silent. Instead, she looks at me with a type of brave vulnerable intensity that says she’s serious, she doesn’t want to, but at the same time, she won’t tell me no. It decides it for me. She’s better than a parking lot. “But I’m not . . . this time.”
McKayla smiles, relaxing at my acquiescence and laying back out over the gas tank, her head resting against the handlebars. I begin mindlessly tracing my fingertips up her legs, from her ankle, to her knee bent over my thigh, and up her inner thigh just shy of her pussy, where I tease her, knowing she wants more.
I do it over and over again, and finally, she breaks the silence. “What happened tonight?”
I’m silent for a minute, not sure if I’m going to answer, but something compels me to. “Just a bad night. Sometimes, I can’t sleep and the memories get to me. I hate sleeping pills, so I tried to work out, tried to relax, but sometimes, riding is the only thing that works.”
She nods her head, thinking for a minute. “Stuff from when you were in the military? Those kinds of bad memories?”
I don’t want to talk about it. It only dredges it all up again, so I distract myself with the sensation of her soft skin under my fingertips. “Yeah, missions and stuff. I did some fucked up shit in the name of following orders and protecting my country. It’s hard to deal with that. It’s just dirty and ugly on my soul. I’m FUBARed from the inside out.”
My fingers trace up her legs again, dipping into her loose shorts to find the wet, warm edge of her pussy. I stroke her puffy lips slowly, moving up to loop gentle circles around her clit.
She gasps, trying to writhe, but I stop her with a press of my hands. “Be still or we’ll fall over. I’ve got you, but don’t move.”
I go back to rubbing, slipping a finger into her pussy and rubbing her clit with my thumb, smearing her juices around her pleasure center in light circles.
She’s unfocused on the conversation, lost in pleasure, but she tries to continue, her eyes widening as I curl my fingers and rub her G-spot. “I don’t think you’re FUBARed. Fucked up, maybe. But not beyond all repair.”
I speed my fingers up, and she moans lightly, her hands clutching at my shoulders as I study her beautiful face. “It’s nice you think that way, but make no mistake, Princess. I’m dark inside, barely keeping a lock on my damage to function around all the civilians.”
McKayla arches her back a little, bringing her cotton covered nipples closer to the dark sky as she tries to keep herself under control. “I think I like you just the way you are.”
I laugh harshly, but it’s not in humor. It’s because I know she’s wrong despite being innocent inside. I stroke her G-spot a little harder and flick her clit with my thumb, knowing that if I were really a decent man, I wouldn’t be making her break her word about not fucking me in a parking lot right now. I may not be balls deep in her, but I’m certain her earlier declaration has been blown to bits with my fingers plunging in and out of her tight pussy.
She cries out in pleasure and I lick my lips before rasping, “You like me a little dangerous, Princess? You think you’re safe with me, safe from my damage? Think again.”
With no warning, I shove a third finger into her pussy, curling it forward to her front wall, making her come instantly and violently.
I hold the bike steady by locking my legs on either side as her whole body tenses and shudders and she groans my name.
I keep teasing that spot until she fights back, begging for mercy. What makes me stop isn’t her words, though, but seeing the trickle of tears down her cheeks because she’s lost so much control. I know they’re tears of pleasure . . . but I can’t stand to see McKayla cry, so I withdraw them, licking them clean before holding her close and letting her know she’s okay.
After she settles back down, she looks up at me with a wild light in her eyes, relieving any worries I may have. It makes me fucking proud that I did that to her, brought out her own little touch of wildness, even if that’s just another sign that I’m fucked up.
“Hey . . . you ever seen a shrink for that?” she asks in a light, casually airy voice.
I growl, instantly pissed off because countless fuckers have told me to see a shrink, but I had enough of Army shrinks. Besides, I’m not a fucking pussy. “No, I don’t fucking need to see a shrink. You think I’m crazy now too?”
She grabs my hand, pressing it against her chest where I can feel her heart beating, and it makes me feel like shit. “Evan, I’m from LA. Everyone has a shrink. It’s no big deal. You need help, you get help. Around there, it was the people not seeing a shrink you had to watch because you knew they were fucked up and weren’t getting help.”
Her casualness about it swirls inside me. I thought she understood, at least a little bit. But no, she’s just like everyone else. She thinks I’m some pet project that can be fixed with a little jabber-jawing.
How can I explain how it feels to be the cause of an innocent civilian losing their life, or to hear your friends screaming for their mothers as their lifeblood bled out to someone who has never put themselves any closer to danger than maybe going jet skiing one time during their honeymoon in the Keys, probably while wearing a helmet, wetsuit, and life vest? No, shrinks can’t help me.
I know I’m fucked up, but talking about it sure isn’t gonna fix the shit I did or the stains on my soul.
I don’t answer, the walls that had cracked mere minutes ago going solid once again. I help her get back on the bike behind me and head home. It’s gonna be a long ass ride if we’re going to get her home by sunrise.
Chapter 19
McKayla
Mental note, I think to myself as I hold onto Evan while we thunder down the highway, Evan is fucking mental about shrinks.
I don’t get it. I wasn’t bullshitting Evan when I said almost everyone I knew in LA had seen a shrink at one time or another. Hell, even I did back when I had a rough patch after a breakup where I’d started having some . . . aftereffects.
But I’m damn sure not telling Evan about that now. I can feel the tension through his body, and it makes me sad because he feels just as wound up as when we started this ride, not like the relaxed guy he’d been when we pulled up at the truck stop.
I was hopeful that it was the ride with me, not just the ride, that had helped him chill. It was why I climbed on the bike even as I knew I was naked under my pajamas.
We were making so much progress. He was being playful and being commanding and everything I could ever think Evan can be, but I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. Every conversation is like a damn minefield, never quite knowing where to step and what’s going to set him off.
If I’m honest with myself, and my long ago-shrink demanded that I always try to be, the drama is a little exciting. Not that I pissed him off—I feel bad about that—but that I’m still learning his triggers.
It’s kind of like a dance, really. I don’t want to always be the one to push his buttons, but the process of learning them, so I know how to traverse the path to his heart without getting hit by shrapnel, sounds like a pretty damn sweet reward.
He thinks he’s a big scary man, too much for little old me, and used to girls running off at the first sign of trouble. Maybe that’s what happened in the past. But with me, he’s got another thing coming. I like his growling, rude asshole ways because they make the sweet things he sometimes says and the nice things he sometimes does all the better because they’re rare. Not to mention that it seems he really only does and says those things with me, which feels pretty damn special.
It’s a long ride back, but I try to relax into the twists and turns of the road, enjoying the time on the powerful beast beneath me with the monster in front of me. My pussy is aching with a need for more than Evan’s fingers, but I know it’s
not going to happen tonight.
It’s got to be close to four in the morning when we roar up in front of the salon. Evan pulls in, letting me climb off after he turns the Harley off. The sky is still pitch black, and now the street is still and silent. Still, I can sense that dawn’s going to be coming soon. There’s the same tense silence that seems to fall when the night owls have gone to bed and the early birds aren’t quite up yet.
He throws a leg over and stands, reaching into his chest pocket for a cigarette and lighter. I’m quiet, still deciding how to roll with this. I don’t like the smoking, but it’s the least of the issues he’s got to deal with.
With a grin, I decide balls to wall is the right play, or at least I hope it is. “You’re an asshole, you know that, Evan?”
One corner of his lips tilts up, maybe a snarl, maybe a smile . . . it’s too early to tell yet. But so far, it seems like a good opening move. “You sound surprised. But I never said otherwise, Princess.”
He called me Princess. That means I’m making progress. He only does that when he’s trying to playfully piss me off. My inner bitch starts jumping up and down and clapping, and it’s time to push the line just a little more.
“But it’s a front. Did you know that?” I smile at him like I have it all figured out. Maybe I do, at least a little. “Once upon a time, you were a nice guy, then some shitty things happened to you and you did some shitty things to other people. It hurt, and it’s still hurting you. So you, in all of your infinite self-awareness—in case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm—you somehow decided that the best way to keep from hurting was to shut down and close yourself off. That way, you wouldn’t be hurt anymore and you wouldn’t hurt anyone else. No risk. But do you know the problem with that?”
I pause and I can see the fire in his eyes as he listens to my rant. When I see he’s not trying to come back at me, I continue. “The problem with that is that it doesn’t work! You know what happens with no risk? No reward. And guess what, genius? You’re still hurting and you’re still hurting other people. By being an asshole, you’re hurting your brother, who just wants to talk to you again without fear that something he says will set you off. You’re hurting people around town, who just want to be your friends. And you’re hurting me. You think I’m some weak little woman who would be scared by what’s inside you. Newsflash, I’m not little and I’m damn sure not weak. And what you need . . .” I take a big breath. This is gonna go spectacularly. Well, either spectacularly like sparkly fireworks or spectacularly like a racing forest fire. “What you need is a woman who is strong enough to put up with your shit and call you on it when need be, but be a soft place for you to land when you need that. And I don’t see a line of women with those attributes asking you to make them yours, so you’d better figure it out really damn fast what you’re hoping for here.”
My chest is heaving as my heart races. I’m definitely taking a risk here so I hope there’s a reward in it for me. There’s barely a second of question in the air before he covers my mouth with his, demanding entry and taking over my world with his kiss. I instantly melt into him, kissing him back and letting him know I’m just what I said I was. I’ll call him on his shit, but I’ll also be soft when he needs me to be.
Evan lets go of me but brings his face down even with mine, growling at me, threatening. “You think you can handle me?”
I nod, biting my lip as I turn and unlock the door. It swings open and he shoves me inside, closing and locking it behind him. In the darkness of the salon, he’s outlined by the streetlamp outside as he shrugs off his jacket, his eyes glowing greenish red in the faint glow from the LEDs on my computer and phone.
He stalks me toward a bench near the makeup area, giving orders this time and not taking disobedience for an answer. “Hands and knees, Princess. You think I’m fucked in the head, but you can take it? I’m gonna show you how fucked up I am, and you’re gonna scream my name, either to get away from me or because maybe you can handle me. Guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
I hear the challenge, and I’m up for it, knowing that I’m good for whatever he can dish out.
I have a momentary flash of apology to Brad, who I’m sure never intended for his fancy white tufted leather bench to be used in quite this way, but I quickly climb up on all fours.
He’s already unbuckling his jeans, eyes locked on my ass on display for him through the thin cotton of my romper.
He rips the fabric wide open, the cool salon air making me gasp. In mock protest, I look over my shoulder, glaring at him. “Hey, I liked this nightie!”
He huffs out a breath and smacks my pale, curvy ass. “Get another one. Because I liked it too.”
Without any further prelude, he thrusts into me balls-deep in one stroke. It doesn’t matter because I’m soaked and ready for him. After coming once tonight and then feeling the vibrations of his cycle, I’m practically insane with hormones. He hammers into me, hands wrapped around my hips to pull me back at the same time. He’s raw this time, and I fucking love it.
The result of his savage penetration is that he presses so deeply into me, and it hovers right on the edge of pleasure and pain every time he bottoms out in my pussy. I might be wild, but I’m not a fucking porn star, and I can feel things in my core getting touched that have never been touched before. He’s gone, primal in his need, and it’s glorious.
Evan thinks this will break me, make me run in fear, but it’s broken me in another way. I’m ruined for anyone else because it’ll never be like this. Only with him can I have this feeling of being overwhelmed and safe all at once. He presses my chest to the bench, keeping me there with a splayed hand between my shoulders as his panting voice sings sweet symphonies to my cock-addled brain. “You like this, Princess? You want me to fuck you so hard that you don’t come, you just shatter apart into a million pieces?”
I can barely speak, but I manage to grunt and push back into him with as much strength as I can muster. “Yes . . . yes . . . give it to me!”
He roars, and I don’t know if that was the right answer or the wrong one, but right now, I can’t care. He slows down, thrusting hard and then grinding there, against the deepest part of me, and I come apart.
“Evan-Evan-Evan!” I scream it like it’s a chant, and I know in my heart that it’s because I can handle him.
Challenge accepted, and challenge conquered.
The flutters in my pussy go on, squeezing and massaging his cock until it triggers his orgasm and he thunders, “Princess!”
I feel him fill my pussy with jet after jet, leaving me feeling absolutely devastated, wrung out, and blissfully complete. That’s right, Evan. I’m your woman, and you are my man.
When he refocuses, I see him look at me, confusion written all over his face and a run of emotions in his eyes that flashes too fast for me to decipher them. He pulls out, fastens his jeans back up, and helps me stand.
“McKayla . . . I, uh, I don’t know what to say. Sorry . . .” He turns and walks out the door, but I can’t let him leave like that, so I scramble after him, grabbing his arm and turning him toward me. I stand up on my tippy toes, bringing my lips to his, trying to tell him that everything is okay.
I’m lost in the kiss, in him, when I feel him tense. Pushing me away, I see his eyes go darker, intense in a different way as he growls into my ear, “Go to the door. Don’t move.”
At first, I think we’re back on track here, growly and dominant, but the last few minutes proved that I’m more than okay with that. But as I step back toward the salon door, Evan takes off, running around the corner of the building.
What the fuck? Did he really just bail on me? I hear scuffling and a grunt, and I step forward to try to hear what’s going on.
“Evan? You okay?” I try to focus in the darkness, looking the direction he disappeared but not seeing anything.
Out of the black night, I see a dark figure coming straight at me, and I freeze. It gets closer, and the shadow knocks me to the ground with an o
omph. Evan comes barreling around the corner a second later, chasing the shadow, but when he sees me, he stops to help me up and the shadow gets away.
“What the fuck just happened?”
Evan lets out a big sigh but takes my arm, guiding me toward the door again. “Let’s get inside.”
Evan seems to almost cover me the short walk back into the salon, locking the door behind us, and we walk up the back stairs to my apartment, locking that door as well.
Finally in my apartment, I find the strength to question him. “Again, what the fuck was that?”
Evan checks the small window overlooking the street, then turns away to look at me. “I heard a clicking sound when we were kissing. Took me a split second to place it, but I realized it was a camera shutter clicking. I took off around the corner and that guy was there, a camera around his neck. I tried to get the camera, to knock him out for the police, but he’s a wily little fucker and he got away. You okay?”
I’m in shock. That’s gotta be what this feeling is. “Um, I think so. He just knocked me down, and I’ve got plenty of cushion back there, so I’m fine. But why would someone be taking pictures of us?”
Evan shakes his head, looking out the window again. “Princess, I don’t think he was here to take pictures of us. I think he was taking pictures of . . . you.”
Someone creeping on me at the salon too? I mean . . . this is my place. My safe place. And someone was perving on me here?
Chapter 20
Evan
My life hasn’t been this complicated since my time in the Army. I hate to admit it, but part of me hasn’t felt so alive since then either. I don’t know what to think. My mind has been swirling for two days after the mess I made with McKayla.
I keep replaying the ride, the things she said and how scarily on target she really was in the truck parking lot. Riding back, her ranting tirade, and the angry sex that didn’t prove the point I thought it would. If anything, it had the opposite effect and pulled us somehow closer together. I’ve never abandoned myself to such utter animalistic, passionate fucking, and I’ve never felt anything like McKayla pushing back and giving it as good as she was taking. I’m never going to be able to top that.
Dirty Talk Page 34
